They believed the release of the Atopian technology was the last straw that awoke this old machine, that this was why the crystals were appearing and replicating. Hundreds of millions of people connecting into virtual worlds triggered this tipping point with a burst of global neural activity. The old world and new were merging, the realities fusing, and Jimmy was the reincarnation of the Great Destroyer, the White Rider of legend. This was why they tried to destroy Atopia, to stop the release of pssi, to stop the unleashing of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
It felt insane.
He felt insane.
He’d been hoping—praying—when they contacted Terra Nova, that everything would sort itself out, that things would become clearer. Now things were less clear, more frightening whether he believed them or not. Either there was an ancient being let loose that was bent on destroying the Earth. Or, one of the most powerful groups in the world sincerely believed that the Apocalypse was underway and were ready to start a global war over it.
Those were his two options. Both were terrifying.
“There are some crazies operating out there, and we need to stop them,” Vince finally answered. One way or the other, that was true.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Connors slid a branch into the fire. “What, like terrorists? That was Robert Baxter who appeared in the forest in New Guinea, wasn’t it? What was with the robe and sandals?”
Vince had forgotten that she was ghosting him in the forests of New Guinea when they found Willy’s proxxi. Connors had seen Bob appear at the edge of the forest. Then again, the whole world knew that Bob was in Terra Nova. The mediaworlds were whipping into a frothy conspiracy fever over it. “Yeah, that was Bob. He was in the meeting.” He sighed. “And this goes way beyond terrorists.”
At the meeting, Vince had instantiated a private channel with Bob to say hello, but Bob barely acknowledged him. It wasn’t like Bob. He’d changed. Something happened to the kid. Something bad.
Sid and Bob seemed to swallow the Terra Novan story. Then again, they were pssi-kids: they barely saw any difference between the real world and the imaginary ones they inhabited. If Sid woke up one morning as the Queen of England, he wouldn’t be surprised—he’d just ask for a cup of tea. Bob wanted to get back on Atopia, rescue Nancy and his family away from any danger, and apart from that, he just wanted to make everyone happy. Sid was excited that there might be a new system of realities he could explore. Vince was the only voice of reason.
And he was faltering.
He felt like he was stuck in a mirror maze. Part of the problem was that he’d already been halfway there himself, reading secret codes into ancient manuscripts, half-believing that there was some fantastical explanation for the multi-headed Buddhas. But before this was a kind of intellectual game, good for chatting about over beers. Now it was laid out as fact.
Or, rather, someone was trying to convince him it was fact. Terra Nova could just be another sophisticated institution with a doomsday cult at its center, like countless others around the world—the Communes, even the Catholic Church itself.
“I need answers, but I can wait a bit.” Connors poked at the catfish. “Are you okay?”
Vince smiled, his mind raging in the background. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think those are ready.” He leaned forward with a clean wedge of plastic, and flicked one of the filets onto it. He inspected it. They were done. “Did you ever have anything weird happen to you, that you can’t explain?” He deposited half of the catfish onto an improvised plate for Connors.
“Like what?”
“When I was a kid”—Vince took a tentative bite of the catfish, it was hot—“I was maybe twelve, and we were going on vacation with my family. My dad was driving, and I was dozing in the back with my cousins. But I swear to God, I could hear what they were going to say before they said it. And it wasn’t a fluke, I could do it again and again by getting into this lucid dreaming state.”
“That’s amazing.” Connors picked her fish up with her fingers and took a bite.
“What, the fish or my story?”
Connors’ catfish fell apart, spilling onto her plate. She rolled her eyes at her own clumsiness. “That you were alive when people still drove cars.”
“I’m being serious.”
When they’d talked, Mikhail Butorin claimed he had supernatural powers that came and went, like clairvoyance, invisibility, and more. If Vince connected the dots—and took the Terra Novan explanation at face value—it meant Butorin had been connecting into this ancient nervenet, but just didn’t know it. It sounded nuts.
“No, I’ve never experienced anything like that.” Scooping the bits of fish up on her plate, Connors looked at Vince. Flickering firelight reflected on her face. “The more you tell me, the more I can help. What about those crystals? Is it some kind of alternate pssi technology?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what they think it is.”
“They being the Terra Novans?”
Vince nodded.
“And it’s not theirs?”
He picked up another piece of catfish “Not that they said, anyway.”
“But there are some kind of terrorists at work?”
He stared into her eyes. Terrorists. She always came back to this idea. She would think it was crazy if he said that Jimmy Scadden was the White Horseman of the Apocalypse, that ancient aliens were infiltrating Atopia. Even he thought it was crazy. “Something like that,” he replied.
Sitting there with Connors, listening to the frogs chirping, everything felt surreally calm. Time was always something he’d wanted more of, but it could also be the enemy. It was time for action before he convinced himself out of what he needed to do. Emotions were one thing, and logic was another, but in the end, he had to do the right thing. And for Vince, there was only one option.
“I need you to take me into Washington, as your prisoner. I have information for Allied Command—I need to speak to their most senior person. Then I can tell you everything.”
Connors frowned. “And just how do you propose to do that?”
Out of the darkness, beyond the doorway of the barn, a small bot appeared. Connors reached around to grab anything she could fight back with, but Vince held up one hand to calm her. “It’s okay.”
The bot dropped a pile of mechanical parts onto the grass and disappeared back into the darkness.
“These are the parts we need to fix the turbofan out front,” Vince explained.
Connors rocked forward to her feet. “And you got these how?” She walked over and kneeled to inspect the parts.
“I still have some connections.”
They collected the parts and walked out front, toward the downed turbofan.
“So can you get me in front of a senior Allied commander?” he asked. “Do you think you can do that? It’s important.” They reached the turbofan. Connors opened the access hatch and they both switched to low-light imaging in their optics systems.
“Maybe, but my last attempts to raise comms with my boss didn’t work out too well.”
“Try again.”
Connors paused. “You have dangerous friends, Vince. I’m not sure all your connections and money can protect you anymore.”
“These are dangerous times.”
“I’m being serious. Are you sure you want to go to Washington?” She stuck her head inside the access panel.